


hold me close(r)

by darkestlordsaroon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crushes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marauders Fest 2020, Nightmares, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkestlordsaroon/pseuds/darkestlordsaroon
Summary: Plagued by nightmares, Sirius finds an unexpected source of comfort in Remus.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85
Collections: Marauders Fest 2020





	hold me close(r)

Sirius expects the dreams to stop, once they’re back at Hogwarts. He’s safe here, he reasons, and as far away from Grimmauld as he’s likely to get. The familiar four poster beds are made up as magnificently as ever, crimson curtains shining in the crackling firelight, warming pans set up between the mattresses to make sliding underneath the duvet even cosier.

And yet, here he lies, sometime past who-the-fuck-knows in the morning, panting and sweating like he’s just run laps around the Quidditch pitch and with the vestiges of his mother’s screams echoing in the back of his mind.

He trudges over to the window to pour himself a glass of water. He rests his head against the cool stone of the wall and gazes out over the grounds, trying to remind himself he’s _here_ , he’s at _Hogwarts_.

He’s safe.

The light of the near-full moon spills over the front lawn, dyeing the grass silver and sparkling in the Great Lake. Sirius closes his eyes and thinks that in just a couple of days they’ll be running through the grounds, wind in their fur and not a care in the world.

He finishes his water and turns back to his bed, only to see that the curtains around Remus’ bed are cracked open and Remus is quite awake, gazing at him through the gap.

“You okay?” Remus whispers. His eyes are wide and alert, as though he’s been awake for hours; Sirius knows he doesn’t sleep much the week preceding the full moon.

“Fine,” Sirius forces his face into a smile. “Just thirsty, y’know.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. G’night.”

Sirius rounds Remus’ bed back to his own. He hears rustling and creaking as Remus’ mattress shifts, and the rasping metallic slide of a curtain being jerked open on the side of his bed closest to Sirius’.

“I have Dreamless Sleep, if you want,” Remus says.

“Why don’t you take that yourself?”

Remus shrugs. “Dreams aren’t my problem. Tonight, anyway.”

Sirius feels a sharp pang of shame at the thought that Remus had been lying there, awake, while Sirius dreamed. Had he groaned? Whimpered? Called out for help? In the dream, Sirius had been yelling for his brother. He’d caught Regulus hovering just beyond the doorway, just out of sight, barely enough to register but Sirius _knew_ he was there. His dream consciousness _knew_ he was watching, listening.

Just like Remus had been.

“I’m fine,” he says firmly. “Go to sleep, Moony.”

He pulls his curtains closed, blocking out Remus’ large golden eyes and his brow furrowed with concern.

* * *

The next time, it’s not even nighttime.

It’s dawn after the full moon and they’ve just traipsed back into the dormitory, sweaty and exhausted but with the warm, satisfied feeling of a night well spent. James and Peter have barely hit their mattresses before they’re out like a light, but it always takes Sirius a bit longer than everyone else to fall asleep.

The minute he does, he’s back at Grimmauld.

She uses the lashing curse this time. Quick, precise strokes that burn the backs of his thighs and render him breathless with the pain of it.

When he wakes, he feels a throbbing in his legs that he _knows_ isn’t there, he _knows_ , but it feels so unbearably real that he’s ripping off his pajama bottoms and running his fingers down his thighs to make sure the skin is unmarked.

It always is. She made sure to never leave scars.

They’ve only been asleep an hour or so; he can hear James’ deep, rumbling snore and Peter’s breathy sighs. Remus’ bed is silent.

He’s in the infirmary still — probably will be until the afternoon — but Sirius can’t help but think of him lying there, awake.

_Dreams aren’t my problem._

Sirius pulls back his curtains to stare at Remus’ empty bed. The early morning sun casts a soft yellow glow over it, and Sirius is reminded of Remus’ golden eyes.

Silently, he climbs catlike out of his bed and pads over to Remus’. The sheets are cold against his bare legs, but it’s soothing. Like they’re healing the wounds that aren’t there.

Sirius buries his face in Remus’ pillow. It smells like him. Like ink and chocolate and something deep and earthy that Sirius always associates with the forest. He wonders if Remus will know he was here. If he’ll be able to smell Sirius on his soft pillow and folded into the creases of his duvet.

He falls asleep, and he doesn’t dream.

* * *

It’s a couple of weeks before the next one hits him.

He’d spent the evening serving detention with Regulus. They’d had an impromptu dueling session in the Charms corridor after Regulus and his smarmy band of Slytherin gits had made rude comments about Remus. Sirius remembers hearing the term _half-breed_ and then all conscious thought blinked out as he shot hex after hex at his brother.

He should have expected it would lead to this, really.

To him lying in the cellar, bound by rough rope as his mother carves _blood traitor_ and _dirty_ _faggot_ into his flesh over and over with a wickedly long knife and Regulus laughs, cold and cruel and always unseen, somewhere behind him.

He’s crying when he jerks back into consciousness, and his whole body is trembling, teeth rattling in his skull.

It takes him a long few minutes to calm himself. He can’t close his eyes because every time he does he sees his mother’s grin and the knife dripping blood. So he stares up at the canopy of his bed as he sucks in deep, wavering breaths and tries to suppress the shivers wracking his body.

“Pads?”

A soft whisper from the other side of the curtain.

Sirius scrubs his face dry with his blanket and takes one last hitching breath before sliding open his curtains.

Remus is sitting on the edge of his bed, glass of water in one hand and a small vial of dark blue Dreamless Sleep in the other. He’s biting his lip and staring at Sirius with wide eyes.

Sirius doesn’t bother being indignant. Not when he’s still got beads of cold sweat dripping down his temples. He reaches out to take the glass of water.

“Th-thanks,” he says through chattering teeth.

“You should take this, too,” Remus says, holding out the potion. “It’ll help.”

“Maybe,” Sirius says. He can’t quite manage to meet Remus’ gaze. He stares instead at the glass in his hands, watching the surface ripple as his hands shake.

“C’mere,” Remus says.

“What?”

He looks up. Remus has shifted to lie back on the bed, close enough to the far edge that there’s room for Sirius to lie next to him. He’s patting the empty space.

“Just get over here.”

Sirius sets the glass on his bedside table. His heart feels lodged somewhere in his throat but he doesn’t think it’s from the nightmare. He crosses the couple of feet between their beds and climbs in next to Remus, making sure to stay on top of the duvet. He keeps himself propped up on his elbows, hesitant to lie down completely.

“I’m all sweaty,” he says.

“I don’t care,” Remus replies.

So Sirius lowers himself onto his side, sinking down into Remus’ pillow and breathing in deeply. Remus has one hand curled under his cheek and his blanket pulled up to his chin. He smiles at Sirius and an ache deep in Sirius’ chest throbs.

“When I was too young to take any potions,” Remus says quietly, “Mum would always come lie next to me. Didn’t have to say anything, either. Just be there.”

“You had bad dreams?” A chill runs through him and sends goosebumps popping up on his arms and legs.

“Still do,” Remus says simply. “Get under the covers, it’s freezing.”

Sirius slips beneath the duvet, feeling as though he’s crossing some invisible line, as though any moment Remus will kick him off the edge of the bed and tell him to stop being such a _dirty faggot_ even though Remus never would, he’s not his _mother_ , and anyway it was _him_ who told Sirius to come over, to lie down, to come _closer_.

They’re just inches apart now. Sirius feels as though he’s being warmed up from within, and all the ice is melting into a steaming puddle of water.

“Closer to the full moon,” Remus says, “I have weird dreams. Like the wolf is trying to take control while I sleep. It’s why I don’t sleep much, that week.”

“Oh,” Sirius says. He’s counting the freckles dotting Remus’ nose and cheeks, drawing constellations across them in his mind. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, by the way.”

“It’s okay,” Remus smiles. “I’m a light sleeper anyway.”

Sirius closes his eyes and tucks the blanket tighter around his shoulders as another tremor passes over him. He hears Remus shift beside him and then long, thin fingers are closing around his hand in a tight grip. Sirius’ breath hitches in a small gasp.

“You should take the potion,” Remus says. His voice is as soothing as his thumb stroking lightly over the back of Sirius’ hand. “At least tonight. It’ll help, really.”

“Okay,” Sirius whispers.

The Dreamless Sleep is tasteless, but it leaves a filmy coat over his tongue and the roof of his mouth. It takes a couple of minutes before he can feel the thundering of his heart slowly even out and the shivering subside completely. 

His eyelids grow heavier with every passing second

he feels as though he’s sinking down into the pillow

into the mattress

falling down 

down deeper and 

darker and

* * *

Remus is always waiting for him.

With a glass of cold water and a vial of Dreamless Sleep, should he wish to take it.

He doesn’t, always. Sometimes it’s enough to lie next to Remus, to map out every freckle and scar as he sleeps. Sometimes they fall asleep with their fingers intertwined underneath the heavy duvet that now smells just as much of Sirius as it does Remus.

James knows, because James _always_ knows, and anyway he was the first one _to_ know, but all he says is _be careful_.

Sirius says there’s nothing to be careful _of_ and James glares at Sirius until he relents and says _it’s just Remus_.

And James says, _just?_

* * *

Both the frequency and ferocity of his nightmares decrease as the weeks pass.

A pit of guilt grows in Sirius’ stomach; he’s glad for the nightmares to finally ease, but he doesn’t want the now tradition of spending his nights curled up next to Remus to come to an end. Once or twice he’d lain awake at night, unable to sleep, heart pounding so loudly he’s _sure_ Remus can hear it from the next bed over. There’s an ache in his chest, in his throat, in his _bones_.

An aching desire to be next to Remus.

To hold him. For Remus to want to _be_ held.

By him.

It’s the night before the full moon when he hears it. A soft, pained whimpering that sounds almost like a kicked dog.

Sirius slides open his curtains to see Remus — who always leaves his cracked open — his face contorted in a grimace of pain.

Sirius pours a glass of water; he’s not sure if that’s what Remus needs, but it’s all he knows to do. He sets it on Remus’ bedside table and sits gingerly on the edge of Remus’ bed. 

Remus’ nostrils are flared and his teeth are bared in a silent snarl. His hands are fisted in his sheets. Sirius bites his lip, suddenly uncertain.

_It’s like the wolf is trying to take control, while I sleep._

“Moony,” Sirius whispers, nudging gently at Remus’ shoulder.

Remus turns and thrashes wildly, still asleep, nearly slapping Sirius in the face. The tendons in his neck pop out as he strains and _growls_. Sirius’ heart stutters but he digs into Remus’ shoulder harder.

“Remus! Wake up!” he hisses.

Remus sits up so swiftly Sirius barely manages to lean away to avoid their foreheads from cracking together. Remus’ eyes are wide and wild, his pupils just tiny dark pinpricks in a thick ring of gold. He’s breathing heavily, deep and gasping like he’s surfacing from too long underwater.

He looks over at Sirius, and it’s a heart stopping moment before recognition clears the haze from his eyes. His lids flutter as his pupils dilate back to a normal size.

“Sirius,” he whispers. His voice is rough and deeper than usual.

Sirius swallows. Clears his throat. “I brought you water,” he says.

When they lie down, Remus doesn’t just reach for his hand. He snakes an arm around Sirius’ waist and pulls him close — closer than he ever has before, until their sides are touching all the way and Remus can tuck his head into the slope of Sirius’ neck.

Sirius hardly dares to breathe.

Remus’ fingers clutch at his shirt as he takes in long, slow breaths. Sirius feels every exhale warm his skin.

“Feeling better?” he asks when he can’t take the silence any more.

“Yeah, thanks,” Remus murmurs. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Sirius says.

Remus props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at him. Sirius is sure his heart stutters to a halt.

“D’you want the potion?” Remus asks, His hand is still resting on Sirius’ chest, index finger seemingly subconsciously tracing the line of his clavicle back and forth.

“No,” Sirius breathes.

He doesn’t want anything to dull his senses. He wants to _feel_ every single moment of this, of lying here pressed up against Remus, of Remus looking down at him with those large golden eyes that seem to glow in the light of the near full moon.

Sirius can hear Remus’ breath hitch and catch in his throat as they stare at each other for a long, weighted moment. Sirius is sure Remus can feel how his heart is pounding just beneath his hand.

His gaze drops when Remus’ tongue darts out to wet his parted lips.

“Sirius,” he says hoarsely.

Sirius’ hand moves seemingly of its own accord, rising up to grab Remus’ where it lies on top of him. 

He doesn't say anything, just watches Remus' eyes as they grow closer, closer, _closer_ , until they flutter shut and Remus presses his mouth to Sirius'. 

Time stops.

Sirius wants to etch out every last detail of these few seconds, wants to brand them forever in his memory. So he'll never forget the softness of Remus' lips, or the small whimper he emits when Sirius raises a hand to touch his face. How Remus' fingers travel from his chest up to his jawline, and when they part they stare at each other incredulously for a stretched out moment that lasts an eternity, each holding the other's face as though it's the one thing anchoring them to this reality.

Remus breaks the moment with a smile, and Sirius feels his heart fly up and out of his chest. He grins and threads his fingers through Remus' hair and tugs him gently downward. 

* * *

He doesn't have nightmares nearly at all, anymore. 

But he still finds himself wandering over to Remus' bed more often than not. 

Remus is always waiting, with outstretched arms and a smile and a soft _Sirius_ on the tip of his tongue. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> This is the shortest thing I've ever written, and it was so much fun to explore a different way of telling a story from what I'm used to.
> 
> Let me know what you think with a comment! Any and all comments/kudos appreciated deeply <3


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